


daybreak

by remy (iamremy)



Series: askbox prompts (multifandom) [7]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Post-Canon, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, and I love them both, jon loves sunrises and tormund loves jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 16:57:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: anonymous asked:Jonmund 16. — daybreak ^^





	daybreak

**Author's Note:**

> im so weak for these two honestly, so damn WEAK

Sunrises are different up in the North.

When Jon had been far younger, there had been times when he had sneaked out of his room just before daybreak, wrapped in his thickest furs, and gone up to the highest point he could manage without being caught by his father’s men. He used to sit down by the window in the tower and watch as the dark night sky lightened, slowly but surely, going from jet black to an inky purple, to soft blue and, eventually, pale gray. The sun was not always visible, but its arrival was always evident in the lightening sky, and Jon would watch, fascinated and awed, as the world woke up around him.

It only stopped when he’d gotten caught one day, by Lady Stark no less. Her disapproving look had made him tear up immediately, and he’d never ventured back to the tower for the sunrise after that. It didn’t help that she so clearly thought he was up to something unsavory, though what, he couldn’t possibly imagine. He was, after all, only eight, and that was far too young for the sort of villainy his father’s lady wife seemed to expect from him.

All of that seems a lifetime ago.

Up here, North of the wall, the sun shines much more than it ever did in Winterfell. Part of that has to be due to the end of the Long Night, thinks Jon, but there’s something else, too. The air is cleaner here (though he’ll never admit this to Tormund). The world is quieter, softer. It’s still cold, yes, but somehow, brighter, too.

When the sun rises, the sky doesn’t stop at a stony pale gray. It continues on in shades of pink and orange and yellow, and when the sun is finally high up at the peak of its arc, the sky is the color of clear turquoise. It’s so different from what Jon’s used to that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get bored of it.

Sometimes Tormund joins him on the snowy outcrop Jon favors for the view, sleep-slow and bed-warm against Jon’s side, eyes at half mast. He does his fair share of grumbling and complaining, and most of the time he’s not even looking at the sky, but Jon knows he’s only here to keep him company, and he appreciates it all the same. The security of Tormund by his side is something he can never tire of.

This morning, though, Tormund seems more awake than usual. He’s sitting upright, back against a bundle of furs he’d brought with him, and he’s got his legs spread in a V, Jon between them with his back to Tormund’s chest and Tormund’s arms looped loosely around his waist. “Look at the sky,” he says, voice low in Jon’s ear.

Jon laughs. “What do you think I do here every morning?”

“No, I mean, _look_,” says Tormund, and Jon does.

“What am I looking for?” he asks.

Tormund rests his chin on top of Jon’s head. “Is it not brighter? Look at the colors, Jon, look, and _listen_.”

Jon focuses his senses for a moment, and then stills in surprise at what he hears. “Birds!”

“Birds, aye,” confirms Tormund. “Know what this means?”

“Summer?” asks Jon, not sure if he’s right but hoping he is.

“Summer,” says Tormund, and chuckles. Jon feels the vibrations against his back, and smiles to himself.

“Finally,” he says. Summer had seemed like an impossible dream before, something long-gone, lost forever to the Night King. He’d fought for it without ever believing he’d live long enough to see it and now - and now here they are. He’s not just alive, he’s _free_, and he’s got the prospect of a long life with someone he loves stretched out ahead of him.

Jon has no idea what he’s done to deserve all of this.

“Have you ever seen a Northern summer, my pretty little crow?” asks Tormund, tightening his arms around Jon just a little. “No, I suppose you haven’t. It is the most beautiful thing you can imagine, Jon.”

“It looks like it,” Jon agrees quietly, looking out over the view as far as his eye can reach.

“Nothing can compare,” Tormund says. “Winter is beautiful, aye, but harsh. But summer, in the North, is the warmer than a lover’s embrace.”

“Is it?” questions Jon. Tormund’s embrace is warmer, he’s damn sure of it.

“Well, most lovers,” Tormund amends with a laugh. “Other lovers who are not me.”

“Of course,” says Jon with a laugh of his own. “Lesser men, I’m sure.”

“Definitely,” says Tormund, and kisses the side of Jon’s head. “That goes without saying, my pretty crow.”

“Prettier than the summer?” Jon asks teasingly, having long gotten used to the nickname.

“Like I said,” Tormund says, and kisses Jon’s cheekbone. “Goes without saying.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you liked it!
> 
> love,  
remy


End file.
